Unwilling
by GuyverChaz
Summary: At the end of Buffy TVS Willow activated every potential on the planet to full slayer status. Ranma and co. aren't too happy with the results. There were reasons why the Shadow men set things up the way they did. Working on Chap Four now.
1. Chapter 1, The End?

I don't own Buffy or Ranma. Thanks for the use.

Note: I know there are comics out there that continue the series. I don't consider them canon. Story takes place about a year after the end of Buffy and about a month after the end of Angel.

Ranma, red hair drenched with sweat, slowly began to pull his hated female body up again. With a grunt of effort the martial artist finished the one armed pull up. "Two-hundred" Lowering slowly the cursed young Japanese man let go and shook out the left arm. Turning back to the bar he reached up a seemingly dainty right hand, gripped the bar and began pulling. "One" One and half years ago even in his female body he'd been able to keep doing this until he got bored. "Two" One and a half years ago he'd begun to get a grip on the curse. "Three" Now he had to work to keep what muscle he could keep on this body. "Four" His ki had been locked away. "Five" His manhood had been locked away. "Six" It had taken almost a month of constant death dodging to use what little ki he had left to force a wedge to get access to even a little of his old reserves. "Seven" They were still there. "Eight" Cologne had been able to sense them. "Nine" He just didn't have access anymore. "Ten" Across the world, in another country, a witch had worked a spell. "Eleven" Two thirds of the female martial artists he knew had lost most of their ki ability overnight. "Twelve" So far he was the only one to even get some of it back. "Thirteen" This would be his sixth and final attempt to break the spell. "Fourteen" The first two hadn't worked even a little. "Fifteen" They had left him drained for days. "Sixteen" The next two had been blocked apparently unconsciously. "Seventeen" Ryouga had screwed up the next one. "Eighteen" But, the information the pig boy had unwittingly brought provided the final key. "Nineteen" Today he was going to win. "Twenty" Or he was going to die trying. "Twenty-one" Ranma grinned with no humor at the thought. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get in a third set before the sun came up.

&&&

Lying quietly in bed after a wonderful evening together Kennedy gazed down at Willows gently smiling, sleeping form. A soft smile crept across the Slayers face as she brushed a few stray brown hairs away from her lovers face. Despite the witches enormous power she still slept like a little girl. With any luck this night would be largely uneventful. For the past month Willow had been complaining of powerful intermittent migraines that woke her from even the deepest sleep. Though the research and spells she'd cast had indicated a mystical source for the pain they hadn't been able to narrow things down yet. Kennedy spooned herself behind the sleeping woman and wrapped an arm around her. It seemed luck was with them tonight. Closing her eyes Kennedy decided to get a nap in before she went patrolling. Before she fell asleep she decided that if the migraines kept up she was going to have to call Buffy.

&&&

Nodoka Saotome stretched and pulled her sleeping kimono closely about her. Moving with practiced efficiency she stripped and folded her futon and put it away in its closet. Slipping on her house slippers she made her way out of the bedroom she formerly shared with her ex-husband. The chill air of the late fall morning was creeping through the house and she fought off a shiver as she closed the shoji behind her. Stopping briefly she checked her only child's room and was unsurprised to find her absent. Checking quickly she assured herself that Ranmas pack and belongings were still in the room before she continued down the hallway. The auburn haired woman stopped and mentally slapped herself. He was absent. Beating back tears Nodoka reinforced that line of thinking yet again. A verbal slip like that would have Ranma on the verge of leaving again and the newly devoted mother would do anything to avoid that. Shaking off the haunting thoughts Nodoka turned on the heater for the furo and laid out clothes for her cursed son.

Slipping gracefully into the kitchen Nodoka set the rice cooker on the stove and placed out the tofu to warm up. When her son came in he would undoubtedly be hungry. Pulling her clothing tighter, Nodoka tapped the hot water spigot to make a quick cup of tea. Barbaric but it would beat off the chill until she could make a civilized cup. Clasping her cup in her hands to ward off the chill Nodoka slipped into her geta and walked out across the just beginning to lighten, frost tinged yard to the newly built Saotome dojo.

The spicy smell of fresh cut exotic wood still lingered about the solidly assembled structure and Nodoka marveled once again at how well her son had built. He'd cut, trimmed, planed and fitted every board by hand and using only those ki-claws he seemed so reluctant to talk about. There wasn't a nail in the structure and the walls had already shown the ability to host a no-holds barred Ryouga/Ranma conflict. Whatever her son had traded to the Amazons for the wood was apparently more than worth it.

Slowly the matriarch eased open the shoji a crack and peeked into the dark interior of the Saotome dojo. Little light leaked in from the rising sun outside and it took the traditional Japanese womans eyes a little while to adjust. Gradually her vision began picking up details within. Off to one side the broken sign of the former Tendo dojo sat waiting for that schools heir to challenge for it. The month was almost up and it looked more and more like the second school of unrestrained grappling was going to become little more than a memory. Making odd shadows in the pink light of dawn the training dummies were neatly arranged against the wall. Sitting in front of the dojo shrine in her locked female form Nodokas son sat in quiet meditation. She knew he was preparing for this afternoon; building up the ki charge he believed would break the lock and restore both his manhood and his strength. For his sake she hoped he was right. The mother looked worriedly at her son. She wasn't sure he could take another failure.

Ranma felt his mother withdraw as silently as she came and took a deep breath. He'd felt her apprehension from across the room and he wasn't sure if he could blame her. It had been just over a year since he'd lost his gender and strength in a single excruciating moment. A lot had happened since then. Most of it hadn't been good but he'd found out who his real friends were and more importantly who they weren't. In the end it had surprised and hurt him more than a little to find which side some had fallen on. But today the tide would turn for the final time. Ironically enough it had been his greatest weakness, the Neko-ken, that led him to discover how to undo the spell. It had taken more than a little help from Cologne but he'd mastered the quasi-demonic power bonded to his soul. In truth if it weren't for the Neko-ken he'd have probably died a dozen times over this year. Now with both the Neko-ken and ancient matriarch to help he'd finally teach that witch a lesson. The Joketsuzoku sources put her in Chicago somewhere so she should be deep asleep in just a couple of hours. He'd tried doing it the nice way; just easing himself free but every time he'd just be bound to the spell again. No more.

Ranma smiled and opened his eyes. Brushing away the few red strands that had drifted in front of his face he stood up and walked out of the dojo. With a whistle the currently female martial artist bounced over the frozen ground and onto the wooden porch. In just a couple hours he'd either be a man again or a corpse. Quieting his gurgling stomach the Saotome heir made his way inside the house. Whatever happened would be met better after a full meal. A Saotome lived by their stomach after all.

&&&

Cologne, most ancient and honored of Joketsuzoku matriarchs looked up from where her great-granddaughter was serving a steaming hot bowl of ramen to a customer and checked the clock. Sighing deeply she grabbed her staff and nimbly hopped out of the kitchen. Nodding to her descendant she picked up a bag of items sent from the village and hopped out of the Neko-hanten.

Mu-tsu watched the old-mummy leave as he stepped into her place almost without breaking the flow of cooking. Despite their differences he wished the young Saotome luck. Glancing over at his purple haired spouse he gave a long sigh. He'd achieved his life-long dream of marrying the woman he loved and the victory had become ashes in his mouth. Through the months that they'd lived together her heart hadn't softened. She met her matrimonial duties and presented the very picture of a devoted Joketsuzoku wife but he'd had his illusions shattered. No matter how much he loved her or how long they were married she would never love him. Shaking his head at the folly of his youth Mu-tsu dished out another bowl of ramen and spun it over the customers heads to his wife.

&&&

Quietly stepping around the room Kennedy gathered her weapons and clothing and prepared to go out on patrol. She'd considered waking her paramour to say goodnight but had decided against it. This was probably the best nights sleep the wiccan had gotten in the past few weeks and the slayer couldn't bring herself to interrupt it. She smiled down at the gently sleeping Willow. Anyone or anything that wanted to bother her lover tonight would just have to get past her sweet Mexican ass. With a final kiss on the forehead the slayer made her way out of their apartment and onto the streets of Chicago. She had troops to round up and Vampires to slay. It looked to be a good night.

&&&

Ranma looked out over the rooftops of Nerima-ku from his perch on top of a water tower. The crisp cold air made him feel more alive than anytime in the past year. There was hardly any haze today and the cursed boy could swear that was Fuji way over there. Still he had better get started heading back. He didn't have near the strength or speed that he used to and it would take a few minutes in his diminished capacity. Still if things worked right he'd be better than ever. With the ki control and techniques he'd created or mastered in the past few months he'd able to take ol' pig boy with one hand. Ranma grimaced as he climbed down from his watch point. The muscle twinge reminded him that he wasn't there yet and a meeting with Ryouga right now would be sure to set his plan back days. He just wished he could jump down. Reflexes, the result of a lifetime of training, kept getting him in trouble. But soon a fall like this wouldn't even bother him. Keeping one eye on the rungs of the ladder Ranma looked over the midmorning city. It looked like it was going to be a good day.

Nodoka watched, hiding her nervousness as much as possible, as Cologne continued to set up the items from a sack in an orderly design. Tiny fetish dolls joined intricately carved rocks and other less recognizable objects in a pattern that presumably made sense to its creator. The auburn haired woman shuddered as a particularly nasty object was pulled from the bag. As soon as Ranma returned from whatever last minute errand he'd been running they would begin. As if called her cursed son hopped gaily through the open shoji. Surprisingly he didn't look stressed at all. Walking calmly toward her the red head girl gave his mother a tight hug. Nodoka returned the hug warmly and looked down worriedly at her offspring. Blue eyes met hers and Ranma gave her an impudent grin. "Don't worry mom. It's all gonna work out fine." Nodoka reluctantly released her son and made her way to the side of the dojo.

Ranma took a final look over the preparations and then bowed to the Joketsuzoku matriarch. "Thank you great-grandmother for your help both today and in the past. Whatever happens…" he trailed off unsure how to complete the sentence.

"Happens, grandson." Cologne grinned. Whatever else had changed in Ranma he still wasn't the most eloquent of speakers. "Now let's get started. My scout told me a couple minutes ago that her paramour left the house and the witch is apparently sleeping."

Nodoka looked up interested. "You used some kind of mystical charm to communicate?"

The old woman scoffed. "No. While we have artifacts capable of it they would only have alerted our target." She pulled out a Nokia cell phone. "Technology, in this case, is much more useful."

Ranma nodded. "Alright then." Checking his position Ranma sat down squarely in the middle of a diagram inscribed in the floor. "Now let's see how good she is."

&&&

Light flakes of intermittent snow drifted lazily through the air wetting the Chicago streets. Kennedy jogged along at a ground eating pace as she made the rounds of the downtown nightlife area. Well, the alleyways anyway. So far she'd staked two vampires. She'd swing around and check a couple of cemeteries later. Since the destruction of Sunnyvale the slayers had organized into mobile units that swapped territories regularly. They searched out activated slayers and did their best to keep the general supernatural mayhem to a minimum. Kennedy cleared her head as her gut told her to pay more attention. Slowing from her jog the pretty Latino quietly palmed her stake and knife. The stale air of the alley would keep her scent from her prey and if she kept quiet she could hit them before they even knew she was there. Rounding the corner she approached the human seeming pair smoking a cigarette. Two the casual eye they were just a couple of toughs keeping out of the cold and damp. An observant person would notice that despite the cold neither one seemed chilled nor that any fog left their mouths when they talked. Of course the crowd walking just beyond the alley mouth noticed nothing. She'd need them a bit farther into the alley. It was more risky but there was less chance that they'd get away or that she'd have to explain her actions to the cops. Again. Casually she kicked a crushed aluminum can.

Rob, the crusher, stopped talking and glanced over at the noise. He smirked at the scared little girl and nudged his cohort. "What do you think Jake? Think she needs some help?" Jake moved away from the wall they had been leaning on and started advancing on the retreating girl. "I'm sure she does Rob. A couple helpful guys like us was just what she was looking for." Grinning maliciously the two vampires continued walking towards the girl as she stumblingly tried to make a quiet retreat. Neither thought that the girl would remain quiet long once they revealed their real faces.

Kennedy continued feigning panic and backed up until she was out of sight of the alleyway entrance then she turned and ran. Smiling wickedly she slowed down to let the two vamps catch up then turned to face them. Wiping the smile from her face she gazed steadily at her pursuers.

Rob the slightly brighter of the two started to slow down. A number of things weren't adding up here. Jake, a little slower on the uptake, saw his chance to grab the girl first and leapt forward. "Sorry man. I guess this time I get it first huh?"

The slayer flipped her stake forward and rammed it through the vamps heart in one smooth motion. With a screech the undead dusted leaving only one slayer and one vamp. Kennedy grinned at the remaining vamp and held up the stake. "I guess he did get it first. But, there's plenty left for you."

Rob glanced behind and realized they'd been well and truly suckered. By the time he made a run for it the girl would have that stake pounded through his ribs. Every vampire, demon, and beast had heard about the doings in Sunnyvale and not a one was happy with the sudden plethora of slayers running around. One was bad enough but the army that Buffy chick had under her now was making unlife difficult for everyone. There wasn't a ghost of a chance he could take a slayer alone but running just meant he'd die tired.

The dark haired slayer frowned slightly as a tremor ran through her and blue sparks leapt between her fingers. That wasn't right. She could feel her strength slipping.

Rob was passing beyond scared now and was beginning to rethink the whole running idea. A slayer was bad enough. An angry looking slayer glowing and sparking was enough beyond bad that if he'd still been human he'd be pissing himself. Deciding he didn't have much to lose the vamp shot down the alley at top speed. He was two miles away before he stopped to look for pursuit and was surprised to find none.

Back in the alley Kennedy raced in the opposite direction. With every step she could just a little more of her slayer abilities draining away. She had to get back to Willow before they were gone completely. If anyone could help her hold onto her powers it was the witch that had granted them in the first place.

&&&

Nodoka grimaced as another shower of blue sparks flew from her yowling son. His aura had taken the shape of a great cat and it seemed to be fighting some kind of black shadow in a frightening display of violence. In the center of the maelstrom Ranma sat in lotus position seemingly unmindful of and unaffected by the spiritual war around him.

Cologne sensed the incoming attack and grabbed an Egyptian spirit ring to deflect it. Joketsuzoku artifacts that had taken centuries to gather and charge were being used up at a horrendous rate. If Ranma didn't win soon, she feared, he wouldn't win at all. Only the young wiccas distance from the target of her magic was keeping the battle as even as it was.

&&&

Kennedy heard the screams as she opened the door to the apartment. Running through the living room she watched in horror as her lover writhed and screamed in pain. Sweat flowed in rivulets down the powerful witches face and her hands clutched at the sheets in their bed. Going from a grimace of agony to a glare of anger Willows eyes popped open, their whites glowing a molten gold. A moment later Kennedy felt fear as the eyes flickered from glowing gold to matte black. A sense of pressure was building in the room and the young slayer wasn't sure what would happen when it broke. Malevolent spells formed and arrowed off into the night as the wicca broke from her screaming long enough to chant a quick attack before the renewed assault ripped another cry from her lips. In a final spasm of back arching agony blue light and white sparks encompassed the wicca and then faded dropping her exhausted to the bed. Kennedy moved to Willow and cradled the witches head as she began sobbing "I'm sorry." over and over.

&&&

Cologne held tight to the last few pieces of ancient magic and walked warily over to the slumped Saotome heir. Those last few incoming spells had been nasty and she wasn't entirely sure she'd blocked them all. Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye she waved Ranmas mother back. If there was something wrong the last thing she'd need is a distraction. "Ranma?"

Ranmas eyes came up and the matriarch was surprised to tears in them. Slowly the boys shoulders started shaking as the tears streamed down the feminine face. Fearing the worst she moved to comfort the boy then he broke out laughing. The laugh warmed the old womans heart as Nodoka rushed to her childs side. It was a good laugh; a deep belly laugh full of the end of pain and the return of true joy. Cologne felt a surge of ki and Ranma was male once again. The laugh choked off painfully and Ranma fumbled inside his clothing for a moment before breathing a sigh of relief. "Okasan, I don't care how unfeminine it is I aint putting panties on again. Damn things nearly crushed your hopes of future generation." Smiling the male Saotome stood up and resumed holding his happily crying mother. "I'm back."


	2. Chapter 2

Two women paced the floor of a well-appointed French apartment as they yelled into their respective cell-phones. Empty fast-food wrappers and coffee containers lay scattered about. Faith dressed in her usual dark colored, close fitting, scandalously sexy clothing was uncharacteristically tense. The past year had matured her even more than prison as Buffy put more and more of the day to running of their emerging organizations on her shoulders.

Buffy wasn't looking too much better. After having the watchers pretty much wiped out she and Giles had been working hard to put as much of the ancient order back together as possible. With the large number of undiscovered, untrained slayers beginning to make themselves known across the world the watchers would be needed more than ever to keep them in line. Faith hadn't agreed at first until they had to put down a power mad slayer in India early in the year. The insane girls actions had shown just how bad it could get. More than two hundred men, women and children lost their lives before the end.

While most of those gifted could be trusted with the power of the slayer all too many had let it go to their heads. Control and responsibility didn't come with the package. Those lessons had to be taught; the watchers had that much at least, right. The Firsts attack had been effective in temporarily cutting off the head but this snake was a hydra. Now there were two groups. One organization 'The Slayers' headed by Faith gets the job done. The other organization 'The Watchers', headed by Buffy, makes sure the needs of the first get taken care of and keeps them in line. Luckily Giles had an in with most of the old families so the rebuilding wasn't impossible. Funds were slowly being made available and watchers brought in from retirement or recruited as they graduated from school. Then this had to happen.

Faith brushed her sweaty hair out of her face and sat down heavily into a cushioned armchair. With a flick of her wrist she folded up her cell and put it away. Her head lapsed back to rest against the top of leather chair. "Ok B. I think that's the last of 'em." She looked at her flat-mate and sighed. This stop had been meant to give the two of them a break. It hadn't worked out that way. They'd been living up the nightlife with two newbies when the junior-slayers had put on a light show then rapidly lost their abilities. After having powers for the past year slayers the world over were reverting to potentials and the two remaining empowered slayers were doing everything in their power to make sure their girls survived the next couple nights intact.

Buffy waved at Faith in acknowledgement and continued talking into her phone. "I don't care Giles. We need to find her. Burn whatever credit with the coven that you need to but find out what happened." She turned to the only other current slayer and mouthed 'Willow'. "No. No one picks up when I call. I asked Andrew to fly out but he won't be there for a couple hours yet. I should have had her guarded."

Faith rolled her eyes as Buffy listened for a long period of time.

"Okay. No, you're right. Guarding the most powerful witch on Earth who happens to live with a slayer when we had no reason to suspect anyone was after her probably would have been paranoid… Then. Now it seems like a smart move." Pause. "Yeah, I hope so too. We'll keep trying from here. You get those guys in research busy finding out how the spell was broken." Pause. "Yeah, you too. Bye" With a flip and a click she put the phone away. Collapsing in another chair she frowned at Faith. "I think you got the comfy one."

Faith chuckled. "'Bout time I got the good pick. Seriously, B. I got all our girls in their bunkers to wait things out. We didn't lose anyone despite some close calls. As disasters go this was pretty mild. Short term," she waggled a hand around in a gesture of measurement, "I wouldn't give it more than a five."

The blonde shook her head while still resting it against the back of the chair. "It's not the short term I'm worried about." She stood up wearily and made her way to the window where she could see Paris beginning to wake up from an all night party. "We brought those girls in. We train them and train them until they understand why they were chosen. Why they, out of all the girls in the world were given these gifts." The woman most still considered 'The Slayer' turned around. "Now they're out there and they don't have those gifts. But, the things that go bump in the night still know who they are. If we don't protect them…"

Faith levered herself out of the chair and made her way over next to her friend. "It's okay B. We'll figure out what's making the spell go blooie and we'll kick its ass. Then it'll be business as normal… well, normal as it gets anyway. Five-by-five?"

Buffy gave her friend a wan grin. "Four-by-five?"

Giles hung up the phone. In a nervous habit he hadn't managed to break himself of he started polishing his glasses. He glanced around the old English library and the horde of international, young slayers-in-training studiously going over the books. There was no music playing, no wisecracks being tossed back and forth. The scene was the very ideal of watcher/slayer interaction. He hated it. He missed the impassioned research parties. Well, maybe not impassioned. The past couple months had been tortuously dull without the Scoobys. The only real excitement they'd had was when they received a call from Wesley Windam-Price warning them of a robotic-ninja, demon slayer organization that had gained access to old watcher records.

Slowly they'd come apart. He'd hoped to be able to smooth things over with Buffy but the girl he'd come to love as his own daughter was keeping him at a distance. There had been some hope early on that the core group from Sunnyvale would stick together. But the row over Buffys doomed fling with The Immortal had driven away the young man considered the heart of the group. Ever since Xander had disappeared into Africa seven months ago the fun had pretty much gone out of things around the manor. Shortly thereafter Willow had cut ties and left Brazil to return to the U.S. and Buffy had since thrown herself into recruiting.

Bit by bit, the former librarian was putting the old order back together again. The new charter they had created to be the backbone of the reconstituted watchers council called for an experienced slayer as the leader. In theory Buffy was that head. In practice most of the running of the organization had fallen squarely on Giles and he was beginning to worry. Without a strong, present, central leader much of what they had rebuilt would fall apart during this crisis. Buffys heart just wasn't in it anymore. He'd hoped that a vacation with Faith was the answer. Given his slayers history he should have known better. Sighing heavily with nostalgia the last of the old watchers left the library to fetch himself a cup of tea. At this point he'd almost take being knocked unconscious as a sign of returning good times.

Dawn directed the research from her post at the front of the library and watched as Giles finished up his conversation with Buffy. Though she was younger than most of the girls in the room she was looked up to as an authority figure by many of them. Dawn privately suspected that the slayers told horror stories to each other at night in the dorms. If the stories contained half a grain of truth then she could well understand why those at the end of Sunnyvale were almost held in awe. Giles wandered out of the library and the youngest Summers wished him well. Lately she'd felt much closer to the older man than she had to Buffy. The sisters really hadn't talked since Xander and Willow had left. The blow up over The Immortal had been bad enough but ever since India Buffy had stopped listening or talking to anyone that wasn't a Slayer. The relief she had seemed to feel after 'The Spell' had been cast and The Firsts plans disrupted had been entirely too short lived in Dawns opinion. The spotty information coming out of L.A. about Angel, Spike and the others hadn't helped either. The final results hadn't come in but the growing thought was whatever they had done to bring down the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart had claimed their lives as well. Certainly none of them had been seen since the collapse of the downtown LA office building and the near total destruction of their old hotel headquarters. Every day that passed made it more unlikely that either vampire with a soul would be seen again. Gathering up her teacup and saucer Dawn made her way towards the kitchen. Maybe she'd whack Giles on the head with a book for old times sake.

Shampoo finished the last of the dishes and placed the drying towel in the hamper for the morning laundry pick-up. Vertebra crackled and realigned in a continuous series of pops as the purple haired woman stretched and reveled in finally feeling WHOLE again. Her ki had been locked off for more than a year and she was feeling the need to train. Great-grandmother had come back from the Saotomes tired but happy. Although Shampoo had known even before the honored elders return that things had gone well. She'd been in the middle of the early dinner rush when her ki had flooded through her. The resulting visual display had distracted Mu-tsu so badly he'd nearly spilled a bowl of hot special spicy pork ramen on a customer. But now the café was put away for the night and the young Joketsuzoku felt the need building up within her. Her grandmother had told her that often an older Joketsuzoku battle-mistress would voluntarily have her ki locked away for a year to concentrate on skill over power. With all of the training Shampoo had done she was interested in finding out what the results were.

Mu-tsu watched in frank admiration as his beautiful wife went through a series of contortions that were designed to work out any kinks in the joints or muscles but incidentally also showed off her assets to great effect. The money the Saotomes had loaned him to get his eyes fixed had indeed been well spent. With a healthy bound that reminded him of better times the warrior closed and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out the door. As the gorgeous woman walked out of the restaurant the sole male Joketsuzoku in Nerima heaved a sigh. She was undoubtedly heading over to the Saotomes for a spar and training session. During the fight his wife would flirt with, flash, tantalize and tease Ranma unmercifully. Less than a year ago Mu-tsu would have been blinded by anger at the very thought. Now he just felt sorry for his wife. He knew that she didn't love him. Not like he loved her. But what Mu-tsu had realized and that he knew Shampoo had not was that the young woman had never had a chance with the pigtailed terror. None of the pigtailed terrors former fiancés had. He was sure the Saotome heir cared for Shampoo. Ranmas heart was like an open book to those that knew him and he did care deeply for the remaining people in his life. But, there was never going to be romantic love there for anybody. Ranmas first and only love would forever be his art. This past year had hammered that home unmercifully for those that could see. In this instance without his vision correction or even without his glasses he could see better than Shampoo.

&&&&

Ranma sat in a meditative pose in the Saotome dojo. Though his body remained unmoving sweat streamed from his brow and dampened his black dogi. The uninitiated would feel a sense of presence that radiated from the seated martial artist. Those more trained and sensitive would recognize a ki adept at hard work. The elite would've detected the diffuse cloud of ki that spread over a good half mile. After taking a deep breath Ranma let the cloud diffuse leaving only a warning net behind. Not too bad. While his ki reserves hadn't grown any during their confinement the increased focus he'd gained working without them was proving to be quite useful.

In fact unless he was wrong there were two ki users on their way to the Saotome dojo now. The first felt like Shampoo. Their friendship had grown a lot in the past year and he would probably be able to pick her out from a lot farther away than a mile. The second one was probably the current heir to the Tendo dojo come to make one last attempt at reclaiming the sign before he destroyed it tomorrow.

A soft pattering noise started on the roof above him and he chuckled as he felt Shampoos ki falter for moment before continuing at a slower rate. The Joketsuzoku hadn't had to worry about her curse for so long she probably forgot to check the weather before she headed out. The light drizzle would have been just enough to activate Jusenkyou's unique brand of practical joke. Still he should probably have some hot water handy when the cat made it here. If it weren't for all of the problems locking his curse had brought he would have thanked the witch and her friends. Getting control of the Neko-ken had removed a weakness he thought he would never be rid of. Slowly Ranmas body ascended until he could extend his legs. The additional strain on his ki reserves pushed a thin film of sweat onto his brow. It wasn't flight yet but he'd get there. A year to think had given him a couple ideas on how to accomplish Herbs tricks.

Walking through the light drizzle to the house the young Saotome heir allowed the water to trigger his curse. It would cost too much ki to fight off the change and it would give the incoming combatant a nasty shock when he changed back in the middle of the fight. Grinning in anticipation Ranma walked into the kitchen and put on a kettle of water. Just one more little fight and his debt to the Tendos would be paid in full. Then he could get on with his preparations for the more important fights to come.

&&&&

Kennedy cuddled the head of her best friend and lover to her chest and prayed that the Wiccan would be all right. The now ex-Slayer had watched the most powerful witch on Earth try to recast the activation spell since the breaking eight hours ago. Each additional attempt had left Willow weaker and weaker until she'd finally collapsed into exhausted slumber. That had been half an hour ago and Kennedy was just beginning to settle in for the long haul when she heard the knock at the door. Not stopping the stroking of her lovers hair her free hand drifted over the handgun and crossbow arranged on the table. In the past year Willow had tried her hand at created magics but there were still a few bugs to work out. The witch's last attempt had been a self-heating fry pan that they'd had to dump in a volcano to get rid of safely. Consequently whatever was going to come through that door was going to meet a disempowered slayer and an exhausted Wiccan. Not exactly a formidable sight.

"Willow? Kennedy? Listen if you can hear me. Umm… Of course if you're listening you're already hearing me um… Just don't stab, shoot, blast or otherwise hurt me okay? Did I miss anything? It's times like these that I wish I had my magic bone back." came an anxious voice from the door.

With a great sigh of relief Kennedy relaxed from her vigilance. No demon was going to fake being Andrew if they could help it and the First hadn't been seen since the destruction of Sunnyvale. Despite the positive changes the geek had undergone stress always seemed to revert him to his base state. He was getting better though. Gently repositioning Willow, Kennedy rose to check the door. Sure enough it looked like Andrew, dressed in a suit no less. She looked closer. Tell me that pin doesn't say, 'pet the naughty tentacle.'; the geek's geek. Still…

Kennedy checked the peephole again. "Andrew, Willow and I have got a bet. Who was the voice of Yoda?"

Andrew put his eye up to the peephole, grotesquely magnifying it, to try to peer in. "For what media? The first voice was Frank Oz. You know the voice of Miss Piggy and I think that's the definitive voice for most people. But there are those heretics that think Tom Kane the guy they used for the cartoon is just as good," he finished in a squeak as Kennedy dragged him inside and slammed the door shut.

Andrew straightened himself and brushed the wrinkles out of his suit as Kennedy relocked and barred the door. "So who won the bet? I hope its Willow because she wouldn't just drag a guy in like that."

Trying to remind himself that he was now 250 more manly the young gentleman and agent of the secretive watchers council watched the attractive, vivacious but oh so deadly Mexican shaking her head as she led the current agent on the scene into the living room.

Eyes like an eagles quickly ascertained that there was a body lying on the couch. The inner narrative crashed and Andrews face paled. "Hey she's not dead or anything is she? 'Cause I was told if you two were dead to hightail it out of here. But, she's not dead 'cause anyway I can see her breathing … and you kinda locked the door behind me." Almost nervously he looked at the closed door.

Kennedy sat back down on the sofa and lifted the unconscious woman's head to her lap. "Just sit down Andrew and tell me what's going on."

Andrew plopped down in an overstuffed armchair and folded his arms in what he probably though was a dramatic manner. "Now therein lies a tale… How did the Slayers of the Vampires lose their powers?" One hand came up in a motion last seen in early Agatha Christie movies.

Almost calmly, the witch's lover reached over picked up the crossbow and fired a bolt into the chair back. Not coincidentally this placed the vibrating bolt next to Andrews head.

Head not moving, Andrews's eyes traced the visible length of the bolt protruding from the punctured black leather. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead as he watched the girl he'd personally seen rip the head off a demon calmly reload her archaic but frighteningly effective weapon. Deciding now might NOT be the time for banter or story telling he cut to the chase. "Don'tknow.Alltheslayerslosttheirpowersafewhoursago.BuffysentmetoaskWillowwhathappened."

The dusky woman waved the Crossbow of Doom in a direction that made him wince. "I swear that's all I know."

With a sigh of relief he watched the now ex-slayer, he supposed, put down the weapon.

"Buffy and Faith are the only ones left with any power. It's like something just took the batteries out of the killer Energizer bunnies."

For a long while Kennedy stroked the hair of her sleeping lover and thought before speaking. "Okay. That fits. I got sick on patrol and when I made it back I caught the tail end of some kind of magical tug of war. There was a flare and I felt the last of the power go. Since then Willows tried recasting the spell until she collapsed."

"Great. So now the witch is down and the Slayers are out. We'll just have to wake her up…" He flinched when he saw the look in Kennedy's eyes. "Or we could just wait for her to wake up. I'm sure Buffy won't mind waiting…. Up for a quick game of Dragon Dice?"

&&&&

Alexander Harris dressed in worn khaki pants and a sweat drenched t-shirt pushed his damp hair out of his face with a dusty hand leaving tracks of dirt across his forehead. Almost automatically his hand reached up to adjust an eye patch that wasn't there anymore. He gave a slight grin and picked up the shovel he was using to clear dirt from the floor of the cave. The past year had been good for him, he decided as he put his back into the work.

The first month had been pretty bad. When Sunnyvale had dropped into a hole in the ground it had left him at somewhat loose ends. In one stroke he'd lost his home, his workplace, his love and his comic collection. A year of time hadn't dulled that pain much. On the plus side he'd also lost most of his family. From all he'd been able to find out his parents, uncles and assorted idiotic relatives had been stubborn enough to stay when everyone else left so they were gone too. Truly it was an evil wind….

He stopped work and grabbed a sip of water from the canteen next to the lantern. Now how did that go? Shrugging he returned to his work. It had taken a while for the paperwork to catch up to him in England but eventually the lawyers had paid off the insurance plans on his family. As the only remaining Harris he'd netted quite a bundle of cashies. The windfall, he smiled at the similarity in terms, had come at just the right time. Heh, is it an evil windfall?

Squatting down he brushed aside some dirt and pocketed the revealed carved stone artifact. As expected its workmanship bore a close similarity to the other relics they'd found in the caves. Buffy and Willow would just die when he told them. Xander closed his eyes in emotional pain. No matter how many times he saw it, Buffy's ability to pick men that would only cause her eventual pain continued to astound him. The latest pick… Hmm prick? Anyway, The Immortal was her worst choice yet. Heck, even Captain Forehead had more regard for Buffys emotional well-being. Reaching over the recently muscularized young man snagged a horsehair brush from next to the lantern and began working away at stone carvings that had lain underneath the packed dirt of ages. He'd seen right through that smooth talking, rich, handsome phony with mad-skills and a seemingly endless well of entertaining stories. Well, he had after a couple weeks anyway. The ensuing arguments with the Slayer in question had been… Not pretty. Eventually he and Buffy stopped speaking. Willows timely intervention had been distinctly unfabulous. The discussion had descended from agreeing The Immortal was a jerk, to arguing over whether males in general were bad and finally… The witch's attack on all things male and in particular her oldest friend, him, had been the last straw as far as he'd been concerned. While he'd probably forgive the both of them in the end he'd decided it was time to forge his own path. With that in mind he'd gone off on a three-week drunk that had landed him in Africa. Surprisingly he found that he had an aptitude for archeology. The combination of a memory cluttered with obscure references and the ability to manage large construction projects had turned out to be fairly useful that way. All he'd needed was a bogus degree and some rare references both supplied by some watchers council alumni. Now here he was a productive leader of a small, but enthusiastic group of amateur demonology research archeologists. More than anything it had been the group now laboring in a nearby cave branch that had been his salvation. After seven years of being attracted to and attracting demonic babes he'd finally given in and decided to go with his strengths. Okay, so he'd stumbled on to a small community of hot demon babes trying to hide out from the guys in their own dimension after being dumped in Africa by a shaman in Arizona after a raid forced him to teleport them somewhere safe. Despite the screaming, literally, willikins of their initial meeting they'd eventually gotten along QUITE well. It had been their help that had eventually led to the replacement eye he now used. Yessir, Oden Tal women were the best. The best part was there were never any mixed signals. When Jhiera or any of the others got hot, they really got hot. Ice had become his number one sextoy. Smiling lustily Xander finished clearing away the packed dirt from a large, carefully worked stone figure. He'd have to carefully move it back up with the others and make sure there weren't any more before they could move any more refugees in here. If these stone objects were what he thought they were he was going to have quite the surprise for the other Scoobys the next time he talked to them.

On the wall behind him the shadow cast by the cut stone figure danced in the steady light of the lantern.

&&&&

John Thomas was a fairly honest beat cop for a given value of honest. He'd never let a perp walk for a major crime and hadn't taken any bribes beyond the donuts and coffee that greased the wheels of most police departments. Five years on the job had removed most of the glamour from the job but he still believed he was making a difference. He didn't even mind being stuck on the particular shit detail the captain assigned him. He'd screwed up and considered himself lucky to only be put here. Normally rent-a-cops would be watching this place but none of them would touch it anymore. Since the terrorist attack on the Wolfram & Hart building had taken place there been any number of weird happenings and the company was just getting around to clearing the site. So far no one had gotten hurt or gone missing and his job for the next couple nights was to make sure that state of affairs continued. Once the corporation had their own people in place they'd agreed to handle the site security internally. Still despite being a career saver he'd be glad when this was over. He'd been here a week and the place was beginning to really spook him. So much so that despite regulations to the contrary he kept the snap off of his holster while he was on duty out here. Still, only a couple hours to go and he'd be out of here for the night. Kilpatrick, who'd managed to fuck up only slightly less then he had, had the day shift. Moving one foot in front of the other in the beat cops procession John Thomas turned the corner and headed down the alley formed by the temporary fifteen foot tall, chain and cloth fence on one side and the building next door on the other. Almost against his will he began to whistle nervously, and off key.

Hidden from the officer by the security fence, a large amalgamation of broken cement and twisted rebar shifted as four clawed arms forced their way free. Still concealed under the wreckage the owner of the arms breathed deeply before reapply its strength. With a burst of movement the arms threw off the concrete mass and pulled itself free.

What little light made it down through the overcast sky seemed to be absorbed by the eight-limbed demon now revealed as it lay panting on the wreckage. A four armed vaguely humanoid torso projected from a thickset lizard torso. The eyeless head swung slowly from side to side as dirty scales grated with the dust of ages.

Skimod the Damned and Everlasting shrugged off the last of the rubble that had imprisoned his ebony scaled body on the site of the hated Wolf, Ram and Hart. Finally, after almost a thousand years of torment he was free. The cage that had held him had collapsed in the apocalypse that had crushed their local power. No longer would they siphon off his purple blood to provide immortality to their grasping brood. But he'd need to escape quickly to ensure his freedom. The travails of servitude and imprisonment had left their mark on him and he wasn't now the terror that he was. He'd need a least a year of good feeding before he'd be able to start making his tormentors pay for their treachery. A dry, raspy, triple forked tongue flicked out and sampled the air. There was much change since last he'd walked the Earth. The number of human/prey had increased remarkably. Nostrils twitched in syncopation forming a variant of a laugh. They would remember this day well. Time to remind them why they feared him. Scampering sure footedly over the rubble the lizard centauroid flexed his four arms and vaulted the fence nimbly and silently. The tasty smelling prey making the noise ahead of him would have just enough time to scream. Pausing for a moment, it turned around to determine the source of a small noise behind it.

John Thomas spun around his flashlight seeking out the darkest areas of the alley and banishing the darkness. This job was beginning to get to him. He could have sworn he heard something just a moment ago. Nasty childhood memories of multiple slasher flicks made him almost unwilling to turn around and resume his beat. Didn't the monster always grab its victim when it turned around? Still, when nothing showed its face he shrugged and continued on.

Standing in defiance of gravity on the side of the building Illyria, pale blue skin peeking out from where the concealing makeup had rubbed away,watched the human until it turned out of sight before returning her attention back to the battered, bleeding and broken body of the pleading demon hanging suspended from her hand. In her youth she'd hunted these to near extinction. Often she sent out raiding parties just to fill her larders with their screaming bodies. Her Qwa'ha Xahn had sacrificed them by the hundreds to her; driving what remained of the race into hiding. Now this was the last. Ignoring the demons gurgling pleas for mercy the blue hand effortlessly crushed the demons skull. In an instant the body of the demon dissolved into screaming black motes that streamed into Illyrias mouth. As the last mote passes her lips a faint wave of energy washed over her. She'd have to see about clearing out the rest of the buildings former captives before she resumed her search. Somewhere down there was the heart of the device that Wesley had used to siphon off her power. Patience had never been a thing she possessed; when one had the power one took what one wanted when one wanted it. Building the structures necessary to contain her former power had never occurred to her but the memories of the shell were strong and had led her to this accommodation. Burkle had been a good choice for a shell. Once she had the device she would reinforce those memories instead of driving them out as she'd originally planned. The world was different and she needed all the guides she could gather. With her power hers once more she would recover that which she lost. Her Qwa'ha Xahn would live again. Then Wolf, Ram and Hart would pay. Then this world would tremble.


	3. Chapter 3

Shampoo daughter of the matriarch of the Joketsuzoku, one of the best martial artists of her age and currently a cat cursed fluidly in her native Chinese as she dragged her clothing in her teeth towards the Saotome home.

The summer shower that had barely dampened her silk clothing had been just long enough to trigger her unlocked Jusenkyo curse. Already the sun was out and shining and the little bit of moisture that had fallen from a now cloudless, dang it, sky was evaporating.

Oh well, the inconvenience was worth getting access to her ki again. Plus with the practice she'd been getting lately she might finally get a handle on controlling the damn thing. In one stroke she'd change a liability to an asset. That was the Joketsuzoku way. None of which made trudging along like this any better. Sighing heavily, the nekofied woman jumped the wall surrounding the Saotome property and headed for the house.

Ranma smiled as he watched his cursed friend make her way up to the bath. He knew the beautiful Joketsuzoku would be down in a minute. Just in time to watch the upcoming match.

He'd actually thought the Tendo heir would be here first but it seemed he was having trouble finding the house. Not surprising. What was surprising was that his wife would still let him go anyplace by himself. Ranma had always thought more of Nabiki than that.

Still the pig-boy was in for more than one rude awakening today. If nothing else today would be payback for the day all of this started. A frown slipped across his features as he recalled the day he'd damn near lost everything.

In an attempt to get away from his fiancées for a while he'd convinced his mother to send him off on a private training trip. No Fiancées. The latter had taken more than a little effort since each of them had decided the ban didn't mean THEM. Still, after more than one round of 'lose the girls' he found himself in the middle of nowhere; which in Japan meant Hokkaido.

The snow had been harsher than usual and had probably accounted for his would-be paramours' strange lack of enthusiasm in following him. He'd been bedded down in the snow and was practicing using his ki to both keep dry and warm when he'd felt the first fluxes in his ki. Packing up he'd made his way to the train station just as the spell kicked in.

It had felt like he was being put through a meat grinder as his curse slowly activated pulling his body through an excruciating change that was usually instantaneous. The aftermath had seen him weak as a kitten, dry-heaving and sweat soaked on the train platform.

In a spectacular display of Saotome bad-luck he'd run into the fanged idiot right after the spell had gone into effect. Still reeling from what he'd thought had been a loss of ki caused by either the old letch or the old ghoul Ranma hadn't been much of a match for his rival.

Ryouga's customary surprise attack had caught him off-guard and the teen had beat him damn near to death and run crowing to the Tendo's about his magnificent victory. In the two weeks it took the lost boy to find the Tendo estate Ranma's life had undergone a series of changes, none for the better.

Still things had eventually turned out for the best so he wouldn't actually kill Ryouga. After all, being married to the Tendo junior-Yakuza was punishment enough. Probably.

&&&&

Ryouga glared up and down the street and glanced down at the smart phone in his hand and carefully made a left turn until the arrows matched direction. Satisfied that he was once again on the right track he resumed his journey towards retribution.

Ranma should have just stayed down. The beating he laid on his hated rival the first time should have been enough but it wasn't.

Somehow Ranma had picked himself up and challenged him again. Ryouga basked for a moment in the memory of the second match. The second beating had been even worse than the first and it had put Ranma in the hospital for nearly a month.

Each succeeding match, though admittedly less decisive, had stripped the Saotome heir of another piece of his life.

That was until their last match. Their last match hadn't been so good. Ryouga, now heir to the Tendo School of martial arts, had placed his engagement to Akane and the Tendo dojo sign against Ranma's seppuku pledge. It was supposed to be a final victory over his enemy.

Somehow, though, the pigtailed bastard had cheated. Despite being faster, stronger and tougher Ryouga had lost. No matter how he tried he'd been unable to hit his opponent.

Ranma's strikes hadn't hurt but each blow had deadened a limb or had some other nasty effect. Eventually he'd gotten so frustrated that he'd charged Saotome. And promptly got lost.

When he made his way back he'd found the Tendo dojo sign gone and a pissed off Nabiki waiting for him. Their wedding shortly thereafter had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of a long, hard, unpleasant life. Just another thing he owed Ranma. This time the bestower of curses and ruiner of lives was going to pay. Following the last of the GPS instructions Ryouga entered the Saotome dojo. Yes, with the additional training he'd had under Soun and his new techniques Ranma would pay.

&&&&

Smiling grimly Akane ducked a slice from her opponent's weapon and hopped back out of range long enough to shake the sweat from her eyes. Eyeing Ukyou warily Akane thought she detected a very slight shaking in the other girls arms.

They'd been going at it for over an hour now and Ukyou had to be tiring from constantly swinging that thing around. With a burst of concentration Akane formed her mallet and swung the massive, bludgeoning head around in a tight arc narrowly missing her dodging sparring partner. Continuing the motion she brought the long handle around quick to block the countering slice.

Scowling the shorthaired girl considered the ki-construct in her hands as she maneuvered for better position. The mallet was the only advanced technique from the Tendo School she'd ever been taught. Now, thanks to the pigtailed bastard, it would be the only one she'd ever know.

Akane, now just Akane, hated her for that. Was what she wanted so repugnant? It would have solved all their problems at a stroke. Gritting her teeth at the memory of the humiliating rejection Akane increased the speed of her attacks.

Ukyou knocked the expected mallet blow aside and dodged quickly to avoid the follow up sweep. Akane was getting angry again which meant the spar was almost over.

The ki-construct was already losing focus and she expected her former rival to lose it shortly. Despite what many would say Akane was a formidable martial artist, easily on par with herself or Kodachi. Once she lost her temper though her technique went to hell. Still, she was getting better.

The first time they'd sparred Akane had lost her cool within a couple seconds. Now she was able to ignore the taunts and frustration for an hour. Ukyou wasn't fooling herself though. Even together they wouldn't be a match for Saotome …yet.

The Anything Goes heir was good and if they'd gotten their ki back so, most likely, had he. Not that it would save him. Ukyou felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She couldn't see him but their ace in the hole was undoubtedly watching them carefully even now.

Both she and Akane wanted to put the son of Genma in an urn and scatter him across the bitter sea. And while they'd prefer the personal touch neither was going to be above using outside help. No matter what she'd once felt for him Ranma was going to die. It was that simple.

When Ranma had been locked in girl form it had seemed a godsend. As the only registered male amongst the fiancées she'd considered her position secure. She'd been so confident she'd sent word to her clan to begin preparing for the wedding. That word had, unfortunately, been premature. The resulting debacle had gotten her thrown out of her clan and a ruined restaurant. Now there wasn't a choice either Ranma died or she did. Ukyou was inclined to the former state of affairs.

&&&&

The grandfather clock in the old English library chimed the fourth hour as Rupert Giles made his way past tables full of books but devoid of people to replenish his tea cup. He'd called an end to the research for the night to let the girls and new watchers get some sleep. Some of them had been up for thirty-six hours straight and were barely able to turn the pages let alone do anything with the information therein.

As it was a compendium of mysterious disappearances had almost eaten one of the new watchers in training before they had caught his ankle.

Avoiding a stack of worldwide periodicals in several languages he entered the tea cubby. He huffed a bit at the sight before him. Once again the pot not only wasn't on the boil the way it should be, it wasn't even cleaned out. Sometimes it was like running a boarding school.

With a shudder he repressed his early memories of that place quite firmly once again. While most English boys that had been sent to the expensive penitentiaries masquerading as private boarding schools would attest that what they lacked in comforts they made up in sheer bloody-mindedness and wanton cruelty, even those schools didn't hold a candle to the ala mater that watchers typically attended.

To the best of his knowledge few students of other schools needed to worry about waking up without their soul or in a form other than that they went to sleep in. Still, by all accounts it beat being buggered in the boys room and he'd only had trouble that one time turning someone back. From what Froggy had said the last time they'd met, the extra inch on his tongue had actually been quite well received by the ladies of his acquaintance.

Chuckling at the memory of his pre-Ripper days Rupert cleaned out the kettle and teapot and put the former on the stove. It was a bit chilly in the library and he buttoned up his cardigan as he waited for the water to boil.

A bit of movement out in the main room caught his eye and he glanced out and smiled. Of course the order to go to bed wasn't obeyed by everyone.

Off in the corner he could see Dawn meticulously going over the combined research notes the other teams had gathered and compiling them into a single document. The seed that her experience with directed research in Sunnyvale had planted had blossomed here and he already saw signs of a great intellect coming to life within her.

Though the girl didn't know it she was already being groomed to replace himself. It wasn't the life he'd have chosen for her or anybody really but like the rest of the Summers women he'd known she took her duties, self appointed or not seriously.

He'd much rather see her in some more innocuous profession. Like… anything else really. The life of a watcher was full of trials at the easiest of times. Times lately had become a good deal more hazardous. Sighing deeply he poured the hot water into the teapot. In a moment he'd go over and see what she'd dug up before sending her off to bed.

&&&&

Formally, Ranma-chan tightened the belt around his female body and bowed to his opponent.

Unsurprisingly Ryouga simply sneered and waited for the signal to begin. In a small way, Ranma was almost disappointed. Ryouga could have been so much more than he'd become. The training trips that the Hibikis endured whether they liked it or not were just as brutal in their way as the one his own father had dragged him on. While the other boy didn't have a father stealing his food and putting him through tortuous training techniques the journeys Hibiki went through would have killed lesser men. The results spoke for themselves. Ryouga was fast, tough, and a quick learner whose raw talent rivaled even his own.

Of all the rivals and challengers Ranma had, Ryouga was the one he'd felt closest to and the one that had earned the most respect. Even the beatings the other boy had given couldn't remove it entirely. After all, Ranma had been the one to issue the challenges. Still, there was a small part of his mind that was going to enjoy this.

Shampoo watched the two competitors carefully as they readied themselves. She'd missed the last fight between the two titans but great-grandmother had described it carefully to her. Ranma had learned through painful trail and error and at the cost of nearly everything he'd held dear how to fight like a matriarch. Ranma had seen it the first time he'd fought the ancient warrior. Shampoo, born and raised among the ki-adepts and ancient warriors of the Joketsuzoku had never thought about it until her beloved pointed it out.

Once her great-grandmother had been a village champion the best of her generation. Ki had flowed through her young body boosting her strength, speed, and endurance to levels incomprehensible and unreachable by most.

She'd fought demons, Musk, undead and hundreds of other foes for more than two hundred years as that Ki peaked and began to wane.

As old age approached more and more of that power was diverted to keep the aging body alive. Precision, skill, careful focus and other skills replaced the raw power the current matriarch had once wielded.

How else was a three hundred year old woman able to beat a younger, stronger, Ranma? Now though, the gap was closing rapidly. Ranma naturally sucked up techniques like a sponge and was willing to do almost anything to learn. Shampoo had seen some of the training methods the matriarch had inflicted on a willing Ranma.

If it weren't for the herbal lore of her people Shampoos beloved would be a lot uglier now. But every time her ancient relative had asked if he wanted to quit the Saotome youth had just smiled and begun again.

He'd been crushed, stabbed, subjected to shiatsu attacks that could kill and still he wouldn't give up. Fairly late in the game Shampoo had finally understood the secret of Ranmas incredible success. He wasn't just lucky and skillful. Those had been taken away and still he kept coming back for more punishment. The secret was simple. He didn't give up. Ever. Stripped of everything Ranma had found a way back from the brink. It was somewhat scary really.

Though Ryouga didn't know it the end of this struggle was never going to be in doubt. Ranma had beaten the lost boy without his Ki. The pig tailed wonder had read the lost boys moves before he made them. Sometimes two or three techniques ahead of his opponent Ranma had just dodged and waited for openings.

Now that her ex-airen had access to his Ki again the fight wasn't even going to be close. Almost nonchalantly, Shampoo dropped her arm to begin the match.

Ryouga was in motion almost before the hand dropped. Ranma had gained the advantage last time by out maneuvering him and out lasting him. All he needed to do was keep a grip on his temper and stay in the dojo. This time it was going to end quickly.

Unfortunately for him, he was right.

Ranma contemptuously slid away from the haymaker. Within a minute the Saotome heir had dodged over a hundred blows that would have smashed concrete and hadn't even retaliated. With a saucy wink Ranma whirled away giving him the space to talk and flaunting his female body in the way he knew infuriated Hibiki. "You ready to give up pig-boy?" he taunted and watched Ryouga turn red.

"I'm going to beat you so bad the spirit of your old man is going to hurt," Ryouga promised grimly. With a mental effort he pushed back his anger and settled into the fight. Ranma was going to lose this time.

Punches, kicks, and special techniques fell like rain around Ranma affecting him about as much as rain passing through the air. And now Ranma began taking a slightly more active role.

When Ryouga punched Ranma gently brushed the fist aside and ruined the other boys balance. With a well-placed push Ranma redirected Ryouga into a dojo wall. Fearing an attack from behind Ryouga spun quickly only to find Ranma calmly buffing his nails against his gi and directing attention to the female breasts inside. Ryouga blushed, redirected his gaze away with embarrassment and then flushed with anger.

Again! Saotome had got him with that Again! Anger drove the punch from the pit of his stomach outward in a haymaker with wrecking ball force. His head whipped around to catch his target standing carelessly. This was it! He could already taste the victory.

In a flash of light Ryouga was temporarily blinded. When his vision cleared he could feel his punch caught. His eyes tracked to the fist and the hand that enclosed it. Oh shit.

Ranma smirked confidently as Ryouga realized that he'd returned to guy form. In a flurry of movement the pig-tailed martial artist touched a dozen quick pressure points on his dazed opponent. There that should do it. Walking away from the paralyzed form of his former friend Ranma picked up the Tendo dojo sign and walked out the door with Shampoo in tow. Whistling slightly he made his way to the back of the Saotome property. He had a fire to build.

&&&&

Asleep in a chair in the corner Dawn grumbled and turned awkwardly pulling a knitted yellow and blue blanket back over her shoulder. A shadow cast by the only other occupant of the library kept the light from the reading lamp out of her eyes and allowed her to nap without interruption.

Hunched over a table in a remote section of the watchers library Giles flipped between three historical tomes two of which hadn't see the light of day in centuries.

Sipping his now cold tea he forced down another caffeine pill. Research time was now coming up on seventy-two hours and he was beginning to think he had an idea about what had happened.

After reviewing Dawn's notes on the research of everyone involved he'd managed after dint of much effort to narrow it down to these three books. Now though the research was really beginning to get to him.

It wasn't so much the way 'The Annals of Achmed the Mad' kept gibbering at him or the way 'Marshows Treatise on Countercharms' kept trying to disenchant itself; he'd grown used to those. Magical tomes this strong typically gained a personality related to their contents.

The final scrapbook though was beginning to scare him. He'd at first thought it was yet another oversight of the former council that the events in China in Japan had been overlooked. But, that now seemed unlikely.

No, it was much more likely that the former heads of the council had buried news of these events on purpose. Picking up a Japanese-English dictionary he flipped open the collection of newspaper clippings from Nerima, Japan. If he was right than he'd allowed Buffy and Willow to make a terrible mistake. He only hoped when the time came that the Joketsuzoku would understand. He doubted it though. That ancient tribe wasn't known for it's flexibility.

&&&&

With quiet efficiency a discreet, black Mercedes Benz limousine pulled up to the curb fronting the Tendo grounds. Almost before the expensive car had come to a halt two large gentlemen in impeccable, tailored, pinstriped suits had exited the vehicle and flanked the door. Shortly thereafter the gate opened and two more men stepped out of the grounds to eye the occupant.

"It's the consigliore." One said and nodded towards the camera. The other smartly stepped forward to open the door to the luxury automobile.

Nabiki, dressed immaculately in a fitted blazer, blouse and skirt stepped gracefully out of the limousine parked outside of her childhood home and suppressed a shudder. Gripping the handle of her leather briefcase tightly she passed through the open gate into her childhood home.

Walking through the gate Nabiki eyed the camera and steel backing on the gate doors with distaste. She'd lived in this house since she was born. Half of her childhood schemes had centered around how to keep living in it. Now all she wanted to do was run away.

Boris, a former Russian Spetsnaz, watched his protectee carefully as she passed through the gate. Once she was firmly on Tendo soil the large man helped pull the gate closed behind her. Boris was careful but he'd been informed in no uncertain terms that the inside of the facility was not his problem. They'd guard the gate with the others until it was time to leave. It wasn't like anything could happen to her inside.

Sunlight bathed the yard of the Tendo-ke in false cheer as Nabiki made her way in from the gate. Nabiki Tendo presented the very image of a modern professional woman. With her briefcase and perfect hairstyle she could have been on her way home from a meeting with the rich and powerful. In truth, that was the meeting she was heading for and Nabiki didn't like it a bit.

The past year hadn't been kind to the last recognized child of Kimiko and Soun Tendo. Her confident smirk and easy stride of a woman secure in her protection and place in life were still in place but her eyes were now cold, missing the gaity and mischievous nature that had once been her trademark. Fear lurked behind the mask now. Her bodyguards would laugh if they knew that she felt most secure when she was alone, shaking, in her apartment on the other side of Tokyo. After all what could hurt her here? Nabiki would have called them fools to their faces if that wouldn't wreck the mask she HAD to keep in place. Her source of terror was much closer to home.

Nabiki stopped at the entrance to the Tendo Dojo and checked herself carefully. In a moment she would face the man she most feared and she needed a second to collect herself. Getting a grip on herself Nabiki slid open the door and stepped inside.

Grunts and thuds of many men practicing katas and sparring masked her steps as she walked through the dojo towards her father. Everywhere in the remodeled and expanded building men that even Happosai wouldn't have associated with were practicing the basics of the deadly art form.

Nabiki would have been impressed with their dedication if she didn't know it was driven by fear. Too many of the men here had seen the temper of the current master and had no desire to get a closer look.

The only current, recognized master of Anything Goes stood on edge of the practice floor watching his new students impassively his concentration on their performance total. Despite this she was quite sure he knew she was there. So she approached Soun Tendo warily.

Ever since the death of Genma and Happosai, Soun had become a different man. It was hard to believe that at one time she actually made fun of the man she used to call father. Shortly after the problems with Ranma began, the widower had become much harder and much, much more vicious. The façade of a weeping and broken father that she'd known most of her life had been peeled back to reveal a man that she didn't want to cross.

In the past she'd often wondered where she'd gotten her acumen and ruthlessness. Now she knew and the knowledge was a cold stone in her stomach. Before his death Genma had mentioned that he feared that Soun was slipping back into his old persona. At the time Nabiki had laughed at the idea and at the fat martial artist. Now she wished her fathers old friend was still around. If nothing else his bulk would have provided a decent place to hide.

Today's Soun Tendo was a much different man. He had a steel grip on his emotions but the constantly suppressed anger was visible in the back of the mans eyes. A fact Akane had taken too long to figure out. When the girl had finally been forced to come out to her father about her sexual orientation the results had been… gruesome. The father who'd cried when his little girl got a scraped knee had mercilessly beaten the same girl to a pulp and cast her out of the clan.

Only Ranma's late intervention had kept the youngest Tendo from death. Not that Akane appreciated how close she'd come to dying. She'd blamed the whole thing on Ranma yet again for not accepting her sexual overtures.

Now both Tendo and former Tendo regarded the Saotomes as targets of opportunity. Soun had promised on his honor not to go seeking them but Nabiki knew the man was eager for an excuse to put that aside.

Akane, on the other hand, seemed determined to end the line of Saotome at her earliest convenience. Nabiki wasn't sure how her former sister had managed to ensnare Ukyou in this madness but the pair had become inseparable. She suspected only Konatsu's absence had kept them from attacking before.

Shaking her mind out what was becoming a rut Nabiki resumed her approach. She was not looking forward to telling him how her search for her eldest sister had gone. Soun had been adamant that Kasumi return to Tendo-ke. Now Nabiki was in the unenviable position of having to tell him that it looked like she and Tofu had fled the country together.

&&&&

Alone in a graveyard in Paris DB Woodside, former principal of Sunnydale High and self-styled vampire killer, ducked a blow from a bladed staff and spun away from the expected follow up. He could feel the slowly bleeding gash in his side slowing his movements as his blood stained his grey sweater. Grinning madly he grabbed a stake from the inside of his black leather jacket. He'd been expecting to jump a lone vamp or two fresh out of the grave and easy meat. He hadn't expect three experienced vamps to be waiting for him to show. He'd managed to stake one but the fight was wearing him down. Sweat beaded and flowed down his bald black scalp as he concentrated on staying alive for another few minutes.

This had been a lot easier when he'd been the one backing up the Slayers. The past couple days had been enough to convince him that the soft living was making him losing his edge. In the absence of their help he had been patrolling at night by himself. This night in particular was beginning to make him rethink that decision.

"You 'ave been making things difficult for us monsieur." The vamp wielding the bladed staff said as he took another swipe. "Per'aps you should have rethought coming to our country? No?" With a thrust he backed his opponent up a crucial half-step. "Martin, what do you think?"

Woodside realized his mistake almost immediately and entirely too late. He twisted madly to bring the sharp wood point to bear on the vamp behind him.

Almost negligently the other vamp laughed as he dodged the stake and landed a hammer blow to the back of his human opponent's neck dropping the exhausted vamp killer to the ground. With a careful kick Martin moved the stake away from the downed mans outstretched hand and pulled the human into a submission hold. They had been waiting for this.

"Now Henry," he chided, "where would we be without wannabes?" He pulled the arms of his captive up higher and smiled at the grunt of pain. "It's hardly worth killing these days now that there's no Slayers to make it interesting."

"You boys should just make it easy on yourselves." Wood said through the exhaustion and pain.

Henry grinned and moved closer to reply. The grin faded and he glanced down as something poked out of his shirt. With an incredulous look he collapsed in a dusty heap.

Buffy pulled the stake back from the collapsing vamp. "We're not quite all gone you know."

Martin glanced around nervously looking for a exit that didn't end in his demise. "I don't suppose you'd just let me be on my way now?"

Buffy idly flipped the stake into an overhand grip. "Um. Let me think about No. Hey, Wood been a while." She remarked cheerily as she leaned down to see his face.

"Yeah well, I've been busy."

Martin lifted the arms a bit higher. "You know I can still break his arms?"

Buffy casually waved this off. "He'll get better."

"Hey!"

"Don't be such a baby."

With a shove Martin sent his captive into the Slayer, turned and sprinted for it.

Calmly Buffy caught her former boss and set him upright. "You OK?"

"Peachy." He said, as he rubbed his shoulders. "How far you gonna let him get?"

A shortened scream came from the direction of the running vampire.

"Not far."

A trio of SITs jogged towards the ex-principal and Slayer.

Buffy grinned evilly. "Unpowered doesn't mean helpless you know. We've got the girls out in groups handling what they can."

"So where's the rest of the crew?"

"Willow's in England at the estate with a severe case of the nopower. Witches said she'd be out of commission for a while." Buffy lost her perkiness and looked uncomfortable. "Kinda hoping you could tell me where Xander got to."


End file.
